


Here Kitty, Kitty

by round_robin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Cats, Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Curses, Gen, The Witcher Lore, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: “Cats don't like—you can't be serious.” Geralt said nothing and Jaskier gasped. “Of all the weird fucking things they did to you, that takes the cake.”This got a small chuckle. “Oh yes? The heightened senses that bring headaches if I'm in a town too long, the poison tolerance that still hurts like I'm dying, but no, cats hissing at me is clearly the worst...”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 62
Kudos: 434





	Here Kitty, Kitty

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in response to [this post](https://round--robin.tumblr.com/post/622739680395460609/araglas1989-chaos-monkeyy-some-stars).
> 
> I added a little from when I originally put it up, but this is basically the same fic from my tumblr if you've already read it. I was thinking about doing a whole series of small cat themed Witcher fics, but my big series is sucking me in right now. Given the original post, this probably should've been a lot shorter, but I suck at writing short fics. Enjoy <3

Geralt and Jaskier had been traveling together for months. It was difficult at first. The Witcher didn't hide his dislike of Jaskier's company, snapping and snarling whenever Jaskier dared pick up his lute to work on a song. At first, Jaskier set his lute aside and tried to write down the composition (it was much better when he heard it, made it easier to tweak as he went) but once he learned Geralt was all bark and very little bite, he rolled his eyes and played whenever he liked.

They settled into a tense friendship. Geralt pushed him around and had no qualms about dragging Jaskier along, but he'd later find out it was always for good reason. When Geralt grabbed his arm so hard it bruised, he was trying to get Jaskier away from a poison oak plant; that time Geralt shoved him over the side of a low bridge into a canal, he was hiding Jaskier from the Marquis de Salv, whose wife he knew quite well...

As the days went by and Jaskier proved himself at least marginally useful, Geralt slowly let his guard down. He let Jaskier sit close to him for warmth at night, even shared his bedroll on truly glacial evenings. And he talked more, not much, but a little went a long way, and thought Geralt never said the word “friend,” Jaskier knew he felt it.

Which made his lie feel even worse.

For years now, Jaskier had a closely held secret. He'd never revealed it to anyone, not just because it was embarrassing—pissing off a hedge witch powerful enough to make a curse stick was particularly stupid, even by bardic standards—but because it was such a risk. If anyone knew there was at least one hour a day when Jaskier was completely vulnerable, he could imagine how many enemies would snap at that chance, his own enemies or Geralt's. But Geralt wouldn't abuse his trust, and the longer they traveled together, the worse he felt.

They stopped in a town for supplies. Geralt wanted to wait until they found somewhere larger, but they were totally out of several key potion ingredients and he couldn't put it off much longer. Lucky for him, pellers and the like lived closer to small towns where foraging for ingredients was easier and the locals asked fewer questions.

“Give me a minute,” Geralt grunted and headed towards the house, Jaskier holding Roach.

A large ginger cat rested by the door, enjoying the afternoon sun. As soon as Geralt approached, she sprang to her feet, every hair standing on end. Ears back, she hissed at him as she jumped away. Jaskier saw Geralt's lips press into a tight line before he pushed into the house.

“Huh,” he said to himself.

Geralt got his ingredients and they headed out. “What was with the cat?” Jaskier asked once they were a distance away from the town.

Geralt flinched. “Nothing.” He paused... and then, “Cats don't like Witchers. Something with our mutations puts them off. I'm used to it.”

“Cats don't like—you can't be serious.” Geralt said nothing and Jaskier gasped. “Of all the weird fucking things they did to you, that takes the cake.”

This got a small chuckle. “Oh yes? The heightened senses that bring headaches if I'm in a town too long, the poison tolerance that still hurts like I'm dying, but no, cats hissing at me is clearly the worst...”

“Well, yes!” Jaskier sputtered. “The others seem like reasonable side effects. You can survive poisoning, but you need to know what it feels like just in case someone tries to do you in like that. And your sense of smell is so necessary. But cats? That just seems like a random side effect they should have worked out of the formula.”

Geralt chuckled again and rode in silence. Jaskier went quiet too, formulating his plan. He hated lying to Geralt about anything, and now he might finally have a good reason to _reveal_ himself, as it were.

When they made camp that night, Jaskier was extra twitchy, he couldn't help it, he'd never done this before... Geralt most certainly noticed. “Out with it,” he grunted after they finished their meal. “You've been squirrely all day.”

“Well, uh, there's something I want to show you.” Anxiety pinched in Jaskier's chest and Geralt's eyes snapped to him, probably smelling his mild panic on the air. “It's not bad, I feel guilty mostly, like I've been keeping a secret from you. Uh...” He took a steadying breath and met those golden eyes. “A few years ago, I think I was sixteen or thereabouts, I _acquired_ a curse.”

“What?” Geralt spat. “Jaskier, I know mages, we can get it taken care of it—”

“No, no!” Jaskier stood up, hands out to try and calm Geralt. “It's technically a curse, but not... It's not _bad_ , really.” He hung his head. “Haven't you noticed that I disappear for one hour every night? You've never said anything.”

Geralt shrugged. “I thought that's when you went off to wank or have a shit. That's what I do when you're not at camp.”

Geralt of Rivia—greatest hunter in all the land, in possession of heightened senses that could track a creature through dense forest, and across time itself—thought Jaskier was sneaking off for hour long wanks? “No.” Never mind, that didn't matter. Jaskier shook his head. “It's easier if I just show you. Promise you won't leave?”

“I won't leave.” To prove his intent, Geralt sat down next to the fire again. He leaned back against a tree, staring expectantly. “Well?”

“Right.” Jaskier opened his doublet and placed it carefully across his bag, then his undershirt. Geralt said nothing as he took off his boots and stripped down to his smalls before walking into the woods, far enough away to be out of Geralt's sight line.

Geralt tried to follow Jaskier with his ears, extending his senses. But... he couldn't. His medallion tingled with magic for a split second and the human heartbeat wasn't there any more, neither was his smell. Jaskier was gone.

Geralt was about to stand up and go searching—how did he just fucking disappear like that?—when soft animal footsteps brushed against the dirt. A bushy brown tail stuck up from the underbrush, followed by a furry little face with the bluest eyes Geralt had ever seen, they looked the same shade as—

“Jaskier?” he whispered to the cat.

“Meow,” the cat replied and walked farther into the camp.

Geralt held perfectly still as the cat (Jaskier?) placed one paw on his leg, testing the softness of the surface it was about to walk on, then climbed onto his legs. He didn't dare breathe, didn't make a sound as the cat turned around a few times before settling with a quiet “Mrrp.”

The cat didn't move, didn't hiss or any of the other things cats did around Witchers. Either Geralt fell asleep and was dreaming, or this was somehow Jaskier. After a moment, he whispered, “Jaskier?”

“Mrrp.”

“Jaskier, how are you—?” How was Jaskier anything? Alive for starters, after all the near death situations Geralt pulled him out of. When the cat didn't bolt after a few minutes, Geralt raised a shaking hand to gently stroke down it's back...

Fur far softer than he ever imagined met his fingers and Geralt had to hold back a sigh of happiness. A great heat met his fingers, as if all the warmth in the world was contained in this tiny body, and the fur, uh, so soft... He stroked from Jaskier's head down to his bottom and felt a rumbling against his thighs. Purring. The cat was purring.

Jaskier settled in, reaching around inside his sort of feline brain. A little tickle of instinct he usually ignored fluttered at the back of his mind, _Witcher, danger_... it whispered. But the thing was, Jaskier wasn't cursed to be a cat, he was cursed to have the shape of a cat. Whatever bothered real felines about Witchers didn't effect him and he was perfectly happy to curl in Geralt's lap, a heavy hand stroking his back.

Geralt spent far more than an hour stroking Jaskier, feeling his intense warmth, the low rumbling purr vibrating through him. He thought Jaskier fell asleep, but couldn't be sure. Finally, he rose and stretched, sharp claws sticking out between his paws. He rubbed against Geralt one last time before wandering off into the trees.

His medallion vibrated again and Jaskier stumbled back into camp, his hands half hiding his cock. “Always lose track of my smalls in the dirt.” He shrugged into his clothes, not making eye contact.

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered once he was dressed. “How—”

He shrugged. “Pissed off a hedge witch, now I need to be a cat for at least an hour a day. It isn't so bad. But no one can know, or else I might meet a sticky end the one hour I can fit in a sack and get thrown in a river.”

They didn't talk about it ever again, but whenever Jaskier needed to change, he stayed in their camp and spent the hour curled in Geralt's lap.

As the weather grew cold and Jaskier started thinking about where he was going to winter this year, Geralt started getting a little twitchy. A few days before he was set to head on his own way, he sat next to Jaskier, closer than usual. “Would you like to winter with me and my brothers? I'm sure other Witchers would appreciate...” He couldn't finish, but Jaskier understood.

“I'd be delighted.”

Jaskier spent all winter getting as many pets, cuddles and saucers of cream as he wanted as four strong hunters cooed at him. Even Vesemir, the oldest and most battle hardened went soft at the feel of Jaskier purring in his lap, fingers scritching under his chin. Not a bad life, maybe this wasn't a curse after all.

The End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Here Kitty, Kitty - round_robin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28857612) by [LenaReads (LenaLawlipop)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaLawlipop/pseuds/LenaReads)




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